


Fetching

by Salmon_Pink



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-10
Updated: 2012-08-10
Packaged: 2017-11-11 20:59:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/482843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salmon_Pink/pseuds/Salmon_Pink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Krypto likes to take care of Kon as much as Kon likes to take care of Krypto. When Kon is hungry, Krypto fetches him food. When Kon is sleepy, Krypto fetches him blankets. And when Kon is horny, Krypto fetches him Tim. Which leaves Kon the not-so-fun job of awkwardly explaining to Red Robin why he's been dragged to Smallville in the middle of the night by a well-meaning superdog.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fetching

**Author's Note:**

> Set after Final Crisis, referencing [this](http://i172.photobucket.com/albums/w8/SalmonPink/AdventureComics3.jpg) moment from Adventure Comics V1 #506/V2 #03, [this](http://i172.photobucket.com/albums/w8/SalmonPink/RedRobin9.jpg) moment from Red Robin #09, and [Superman #712](http://salmon-pink.livejournal.com/91446.html#cutid1). Written for the [Tim/Kon Meme](http://dcu-memes.livejournal.com/2410.html), [prompt](http://dcu-memes.livejournal.com/2410.html?thread=30826#t30826) "Krypto likes to take care of Kon as much as Kon likes to take care of Krypto. So when Kon is horny, Krypto fetches him Tim".

Kon should have anticipated this. 

Krypto’s been sticking pretty damn close to him since he came back from the dead. Which isn’t a problem or anything. Kon _likes_ having Krypto nearby, especially after hearing that Krypto basically _disappeared_ for God knows how long when Kon never came home after the fight with Superdouche Prime.

Kon’s probably never going to stop feeling guilty for getting himself killed. 

So he and Krypto, they’ve been spending a lot of time together. There may even have been superdog cuddles, although Kon will totally deny that if anyone ever asks. He’s been enjoying fussing over Krypto, playing with him, taking him out for long flies over the Atlantic, just generally _spoiling_ him.

Krypto totally deserves it.

But the thing is, Krypto’s kind of been returning the favour. He’s been fussing over Kon just as much as Kon fusses over him. 

It started with Krypto dumping half of Kon’s rogues gallery outside his biology classroom. Which was a pretty big pain in the ass, because Kon had to haul them all back to prison and Scavenger wouldn’t shut up the whole way, all ‘destroy the world’ this and ‘vengeance will be mine’ that.

At the time, he figured Krypto was trying to help him fight crime or something.

But now he kind of thinks Krypto knew Kon was bored out of his skull.

See, Krypto has that weird, uncanny pet-sense thing, where he seems able to read Kon’s mood. It wasn’t so strong when Clark first dropped Krypto in his lap, but it was getting pretty decent by the time Kon went and died. Like, if he was restless and just needed to fly somewhere, _anywhere_ , Krypto would appear with his favourite manhole-cover Frisbee. ‘Gotta walk the superdog’ was the perfect excuse to just take off, no questions asked. And Kon kind of liked the company when he was flying over mountainsides.

Krypto didn’t do anymore criminal fetching after that but he _has_ been fetching other things. When Kon was struggling to keep his eyes open as he sleepily worked on his English essay, Krypto appeared with the blankets from Kon’s bed. When Kon’s stomach growled a little too loudly while he was ploughing the west fields, Krypto appeared with what looked suspiciously like a dinosaur bone. 

It’s pretty obvious that he’s trying to take care of Kon, figuring out if Kon’s tired or hungry and helping in his own special canine way.

Which is why Kon should have anticipated _this_.

This being Red Robin, arms crossed over his chest, legs dangling limply, held up in midair outside Kon’s open window by Krypto’s teeth in his cape.

Kon just sort of gapes for a moment, the only sound between them crickets chirping in the distance and Krypto panting through his mouthful of leather.

“Uh. I. That’s.” Kon’s mouth is trying really hard to form an actual sentence, honest. He stops, inhales deeply and scrubs a hand through his hair. “Wow, man, sorry. I wasn’t… Uh, Krypto will take you back to Gotham now, okay.”

Krypto makes a confused, slightly distressed noise and cocks his head, which makes Tim bob a little in the air. Kon tries to hide his wince behind a sheepish smile.

Tim’s mouth is this really thin line, jaw clenched up tight. His fingers flex slightly where they’re resting over his biceps, gauntlets creaking a little.

“You’re not going to invite me in?” Tim asks, and his voice could almost be mistaken for deadpan humour except his mouth is still too firm, lips pressed together so hard they’re starting to turn white.

“Suh-sure,” Kon stutters, trying to keep his smile in place. He shoves the window further open and Krypto makes a happy whuffing noise and moves Tim closer to the ledge. 

Kon shuffles up in bed a little, reaches out a hand to help Tim through the window, which Tim totally ignores as he grips the frame and slides his legs over the windowsill. 

“Good dog,” Kon says, and he’s trying to keep his voice calm but it’s coming out all wrong, all falsely chipper. Krypto doesn’t seem to mind, because his tail starts whipping back and forth before he gives a satisfied little yip and vanishes toward the barn. 

“Good dog?” Tim responds, and he’s apparently trying to do the same steady voice that Kon’s aiming for, except Tim’s really good at it so he sounds collected and totally in control. 

“He was just trying to help,” Kon mutters, drawing his knees up and hoping it covers the way he’s discretely pulling the sheets higher up his bare chest. He can feel Tim’s presence kneeling at the foot of his bed, but he’s not exactly keen on making eye contact right now.

“Help? With what?” Tim asks, and that’s a question Kon _really_ doesn’t want to answer.

If this was just a case of Krypto sensing Kon was lonely or something, that would be one thing. Embarrassing to explain, but Tim would still get it. He’d tease Kon a little and make it clear that he’s not happy about being dragged around like a chew toy, but he’d still totally start making more time to just hang out, even though Kon knows Tim’s got his plate full and then some.

But it’s _not_ just loneliness, or maybe it’s more that it’s a very _specific_ sort of loneliness.

When Kon’s sleepy, Krypto brings him blankets. When Kon’s hungry, Krypto brings him food. And apparently when Kon’s horny, Krypto brings him Tim.

He’s not sure which is weirder, that Krypto can tell when he’s horny or that Krypto’s the first to figure out that Kon’s totally horny for _Tim_.

Except maybe it makes sense, because Kon’s been paying attention to the lessons Clark’s given him about the human body and the way it reacts to stress or fear. Krypto’s pretty used to reading body language, so he likely has a pretty firm grasp of those lessons himself. 

So when a surprise trip to Gotham led to Tim wrapping Kon up in a flying-tackle hug, an actual _hug_ , Krypto was probably just as aware as him when Kon’s heart-rate suddenly skyrocketed and he started, like, leaking hormones all over the place.

Kon flew back to Smallville and the privacy of his bedroom pretty damn fast after that, even by his standards. Barely through his bedroom door before he’d had his hand shoved down his jeans and wrapped around his aching cock, biting down on the knuckles of his fist to keep from groaning too loud at the memory of Tim pressed all up against him.

Which is kind of what he was doing before he heard the sound of Krypto rushing closer and smelt leather and Kevlar and _Tim_.

Super-reflexes mean he managed to yank his hand out of his boxers before Krypto appeared at the window, but he’s pretty sure everything about him right now just _screams_ ‘I was totally jerking off when you got here’ and Kon’s certain his smile is starting to look pained. Mostly because he didn’t actually get to _finish_ , and he pulls his knees up a little closer to his chest.

“Help with what?” Tim repeats, and at least his voice is sounding a little less Batman-ish now. But that just means he’s starting to worry, which makes Kon feel like a complete tool. 

Tim, who’s kind of an expert at carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders for no reason other than the fact he _can_ , is worried about Kon. And all Kon can worry about is whether Tim’s uncanny detective skills can sense that Kon’s really, _really_ hard right now.

It’s almost like he can _feel_ Tim’s eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Is something wrong?” Tim asks, and yeah, everything is wrong right now, because all Kon can seem to focus on is the heat from Tim’s body, the way having Tim sitting on his bed makes it feel so small. If Kon wiggled his toes, they’d brush against Tim’s knee. The thought makes it kind of hard to breathe.

There’s a rustling noise, and Kon risks a glance towards Tim’s face. 

Tim’s thumbs are moving across his cheekbones, hooking under the edge of the cowl, and then he’s pushing it up and over his head. Kon’s gaze whips back to the window, and he’s horrified to feel a tiny noise catch in his throat that sounds suspiciously like a whimper.

Luckily Tim doesn’t seem to hear it, too preoccupied with pushing his cowl back. Kon watches the reflection in the window as Tim runs a hand through his hair, ruffling it up from where it’s flat against his head.

“Seriously, Conner,” Tim says, and his voice is quiet and concerned. “Is there something I can do to help?”

‘Leave now before I do something I might regret,’ Kon’s mind supplies instantly and he hates himself for being such a jerk. Tim doesn’t deserve to have to deal with this crap, so Kon tries to level his smile out into something less freaked. He manages to look Tim in the eye and everything. “I’m fine. Really,” he insists, the cheer in his voice still sounding weirdly hollow and wrong. “Krypto’s just been kinda protective of me since I got back. Guess he thought it would be good for me to hang out with a friend or something.”

“At two in the morning?” Tim’s eyebrows raise slightly.

“Yeah, huh, crazy dog,” Kon laughs, voice almost cracking around the noise. He shifts a little, tries not to make it too noticeable, because it’s starting to kind of hurt now, all that blood throbbing between his legs. “I’ll tell him to knock it off. Wait, oh shit, you weren’t in the middle of, like, a gang war or something, were you?”

“Just a mugging,” Tim frowns. “But Krypto was kind enough to knock the guys out before he grabbed me.” There’s this little sardonic smile tugging at the corners of Tim’s mouth, and all Kon can think about is how much he wants to lick at it. He’s usually pretty careful not to be anywhere near Tim, not to even be in the same _state_ as Tim when he’s turned on like this, because he’s always scared he’ll slip up and say something stupid and screw everything up. And right now it’s taking all his willpower, and then some more that he’s pulling from God knows where, not to just shove his hand down between his legs to ease the pressure.

“Heh, he’s awesome like that. Greatest superdog ever.” He can _hear_ himself babbling, although he’s not actually sure what he’s even saying. He can feel himself fidgeting, and if he can feel it then it’s likely Tim can feel it as well, mattress shifting beneath them both. It’s getting to the point where he can’t stay there any longer, Tim smiling at him and his hair looking all soft and pettable. But if he stands up, there’s not really going to be any hiding the tent in his boxers. There’s a slim chance he could excuse himself and use his superspeed to race for the bathroom before Tim can notice anything.

“So nothing’s wrong?” Tim asks and reaches out to touch Kon’s knee through the sheet.

Kon doesn’t actually mean to jerk backwards, spine slamming up against the headboard. The lamp on his bedside table rattles but doesn’t actually fall. The sheets slip down his chest to pool at his waist.

Tim’s eyes get really wide, hand hovering in the air between them. And this is the point where Kon should start apologising, or maybe punch himself in the face for being such a dick. Tim’s heart is racing just as badly as his own, and Kon tries to block that out, because he doesn’t really like reading his friends like that, same way he tries not to use his x-ray vision on them. It seems rude and invasive, never mind that the Bats are the most invasive people Kon’s ever met.

“Sorry,” Kon blurts out, and he should really explain why he’s acting like a crazy person but his brain is coming up with nothing but static. 

Tim very slowly lowers his hand back to the bed. “It’s okay,” he murmurs, although Kon knows that’s total bull and Tim’s hurt, justifiably so, by Kon basically throwing himself out of the way of Tim’s touch.

And then Tim’s eyes flicker down, just for a second, _less_ than a second, before his gaze moves toward the window.

“Maybe I should go,” Tim mutters tensely, and for a horrible moment Kon’s sure Tim knows, that Tim’s seen the telltale bulge in the sheets. But Kon’s knees are still up and blocking Tim’s view, so that can’t be the reason Tim’s heartbeat just kicked up another notch. He’s not _supposed_ to be listening to Tim’s heartbeat, and he’s _really_ not supposed to be taking advantage of his supervision to see through the darkness that there’s the slightest hint of a blush forming on Tim’s cheeks. But he is, and it takes a moment for his brain to put two and two together and come up with _pleaseohplease_. 

Tim’s gaze had slipped down to Kon’s chest, Kon’s _bare_ chest, and his heartbeat had sped up and now he’s blushing and Kon doesn’t actually need a lesson from Clark to tell him what that means. Or _might_ mean, and this is the most stupid time in the world to be gambling on logic vs. hormones. But Kon’s not really thinking so clearly anymore, and maybe he’s just a little desperate, reading something that isn’t there just because he wants it to be there that badly. 

Either way, he reaches out and grabs Tim’s wrist, voice sounding strained as he begs, “Don’t go.”

Tim turns back to him, eyes dark and a little haunted, and Kon feels the slightest shiver run through Tim’s body and it’s enough. Enough to make his brain give up, make his control snap, and Tim doesn’t resist when Kon pulls him closer, but maybe that’s because Kon’s not really giving him a chance. Leaning forward, Tim’s arm pulled by Kon’s grip so he has no choice but to lean in too. “Don’t go,” Kon whispers again, lips so close to Tim’s that he can taste his breath.

And then he’s tasting Tim’s mouth, pressing a rough, needy kiss there. 

For a long moment, Tim is completely frozen against him, his lips unyielding. And Kon could cry, could actually break down in tears, because he just ruined the best relationship he’s ever had and Tim will probably try to shrug it off and pretend they can still be friends, but everything will have changed.

Kon’s pulling away, a million apologies already on the tip of his tongue, when Tim just _surges_ forward, pushing up onto his knees so all his weight is baring down on Kon. On Kon’s _mouth_ , and the hand Kon hasn’t got a death grip on is suddenly moving through Kon’s hair, material of the gauntlets palming the back of his head. 

It’s like a dam breaking, an explosion, and the groan that works its way out of Kon’s chest is shaky and earnest, and Tim just swallows it down. Lips parting so he can lick at Kon’s teeth, and Kon’s reaching for him, one hand on Tim’s bicep, the other at his hip. Dragging Tim forward, and Tim just lets him, lets Kon haul him in close. Pulling until Tim’s looming over him, knees either side of Kon’s lap. Kon’s hands skim over the Red Robin uniform, following the lines of Tim’s waist. Tim’s free hand curls at the side of Kon’s neck, thumb pushing up against Kon’s jaw. Urging Kon to tilt his head back, and then Kon’s got his tongue in Tim’s mouth and Tim is _sucking_ at it, and Kon moans and his hips buck up against Tim’s weight.

This is the point where he should probably feel mortified about just how hard he is, but he’s so far beyond that he can’t even remember why he should be embarrassed. Tim is this perfect weight above him, and he makes this soft, surprised little noise against Kon’s mouth, fingers digging into the skin just behind Kon’s ear.

The next noise that passes from Tim’s mouth to Kon’s is pitched a little higher, and Kon realises that his fingernails are kind of scraping along the seams of Tim’s uniform, TTK rippling the fabric as it tries to find a way _inside_. Kon can feel the pull of Tim’s lips as he smiles against Kon’s mouth, and then Tim’s fingers are moving over the belts that cross in front of his chest. Pressing buttons and flipping catches until he can shrug them off, and Kon’s TTK whips them away and safely down to the floor. Tim’s fingers brush Kon’s collarbone as he works at the fastening of his cape before it gives and spills out on the bed behind him.

Tim pulls back slightly, and Kon can’t decide if he wants to stare at Tim’s fingers toying with the hem at his waist or the way Tim’s eyes are _dancing_ in the moonlight.

“Is this okay?” Tim asks, and the question sounds so damn genuine that Kon kind of wants to scream.

“ _Yes_ ,” he hisses, and Kon doesn’t care that every drop of longing and need and arousal is right there in his voice, because Tim shivers again, swallowing thickly before he pulls the top half of his uniform up and over his head in one fluid movement. 

There’s skin and muscle and scars and one nasty looking gash of pink and red across Tim’s stomach that looks fairly recent. And then Tim’s cursing to himself, because he apparently didn’t think to take the gauntlets off and now his sleeves are kind of stuck. Which makes Kon have to bite down a grin, because it feels damn good to know he’s not the only one going crazy for this, not the only one losing his mind a little. 

The muscles of Tim’s stomach twitch when Kon’s fingers reach out for them, bunching and relaxing under the touch. Tim’s looking down at him, arms still held above his head where he’s fighting with the fabric, and his eyes look so hungry that Kon feels a little dizzy, leaking all over himself inside his boxers. Reaching up with the TTK to help ease Tim free of his gauntlets, even while he’s leaning forward, breathing hotly over Tim’s left nipple, already peaked but growing even tighter under the attention. Tim’s breathing is growing harsh and ragged, and as soon as his hands are free, they’re back in Kon’s hair. Gripping at it as Kon mouths at the pale pink bud of flesh, and Kon can’t help but remember all those times Tim helped him work on multitasking in battle. Probably never thought the lessons would help Kon tug Tim’s boots down his legs with his TTK whilst sucking bruises into Tim’s chest.

Kon’s hands find their way back to Tim’s hips, raise him up a little further on his knees so Kon can move his attention to Tim’s right nipple without straining his neck. And that takes all the pressure off his lap, but Kon doesn’t even care right now. This is everything he’s ever wanted for as long as he can remember, and Tim’s arching his back for it, pressing up into the slide of Kon’s lips over his skin. Making this amazing little noise when Kon’s hands slip around to palm at the round flesh of his ass, and when Tim’s fingers tug at his hair, urge him back, Kon can only follow.

Tilting his head for another kiss, and Tim’s mouth is there instantly. Tim’s legs are shifting either side of him, knees moving up, and then Tim’s sitting on his thighs, his legs wrapping around Kon’s waist. 

Kon’s dragging Tim even closer before he realises what he’s doing, chest to chest, and then all of Tim’s weight is pressing down against his groin, and Kon’s head falls back, hips thrusting up under the curve of Tim’s ass. Really kind of _sincere_ groan tripping past his lips, and Tim gasps and rolls his hips down and it’s _perfect_. 

“Shit, I need... _Shit_ ,” Kon growls, hands at Tim’s hips. Urging Tim on, rocking up as Tim pushes down until he’s _grinding_ against Tim, panting into the skin of Tim’s neck. One of Tim’s hands is braced on the headboard and the other is back tangled in his hair, and Kon inexplicably wants to grow it out again, just so Tim can get an even better grip on it than he has now. 

And he’s totally been on the edge too long, and Tim is making these amazing breathy little noises, and there’s no way Kon can last. “ _Tim_ ,” he moans, and he doesn’t know if it’s a warning or a plea.

Tim’s legs tighten around his waist, hand leaving the headboard to move behind him, get a solid grip on Kon’s thigh so he can lean his weight back against it. Head thrown backwards, _riding_ every jerk of Kon’s hips and it’s the hottest fucking thing Kon’s ever seen. Like being punched in the gut by a mountain, and Kon’s eyes squeeze shut and his mouth falls open as he lets go and orgasm crashes down over him, pressing his twitching cock up against Tim’s weight, hands holding Tim still against him. Messy, deep noise wrenched from him, everything whiting out for a long moment, and smelling sex and Tim in the same room is enough to make him whine, cock spurting a little more, so sensitive it hurts.

He’s not sure if it takes seconds or hours for him to fall back into himself, but Tim’s forehead is pressed against his own, his breath coming in pants that are scorching over Kon’s face. His hips are giving these tiny, abortive thrusts into midair, like he’s trying to hold himself back, and that makes Kon want to wince, because Tim should never try to stop himself being as sexy as he damn well is.

The noise Tim makes when Kon lifts him by the hips and drops him back against the cape-covered mattress is only slightly more dignified than a yelp. Kon crawls over him, one hand braced beside Tim’s head and the other curling in Tim’s waistband. 

“Is this -”

“Conner, if you ask me if this is okay, I will _kill_ you,” Tim grits out, pushing up against Kon’s knuckles. 

Kon feels himself nod really, stupidly enthusiastically, and then he’s peeling everything down over Tim’s hips, tights, shorts and his jock. Breathing him in, feeling his mouth fill with saliva, and it doesn’t matter that Kon hasn’t exactly done this before, that he’s only ever been on the receiving end. Because all he can think about is getting his mouth around Tim, and he’s leaning forward before Tim’s tights have even reached his knees. Tim’s hand pushes against his forehead but Kon just ignores it, and then he’s opening his mouth, taking Tim in.

“Oh, _fuck_!” Tim blurts out, his voice rough and almost feral with need, and it has no right to sound as hot as it does. Kon whimpers a little around his mouthful, and Tim’s breath catches, fingers scrabbling over Kon’s scalp. Kon feels stretched, _full_ , and he kind of wants to be hard again, rubbing himself a little against the mattress. 

Kon’s pretty sure finesse and technique are beyond him, so he settles for following his instincts. Taking in as much as he can, just feeling the weight of it on his tongue for a long moment, before he begins to suck. He’s a little worried about how hard would be _too_ hard, but Tim’s strangled yell tells him he’s got it about right. It’s a little awkward to bob up and down and suck at the same time, but Kon’s determined to give it his all and then some. Fist wrapping around the base of Tim’s cock where he can’t quite get all the way down to the root yet, and he’s drooling all over his fingers and he totally doesn’t care. 

Tim’s making this steady stream of sounds, like each one is being punched out of his lungs. Thighs tense as steel, heels digging into the sheets. Kon keeps trying to push himself, lips sliding down against his fist on each downstroke, taking in a little more. Sucking until he feels his cheeks hollow, before he has to swallow, and Tim’s hips buck slightly in response, hands pushing at Kon’s forehead again. “ _Kon_ ,” he gasps, and it makes Kon groan to hear him sound so _wrecked_ , and then Tim’s pulsing in his mouth, spilling against his tongue. Filling him, and Kon takes as much as he can until he feels it spilling out the corner of his mouth. Pulling back and letting Tim’s cock slip free of his lips with this really wet noise. 

Kon swallows and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand as he sits up a little. It tastes salty and kind of bitter but not really bad or anything like that. Tim’s staring up at him with this dazed expression, face still flushed. It seems like way too much effort to try and juggle Tim the right way round on the bed, so Kon grabs the pillows and repositions them at the foot of the bed instead.

“What are you doing?” Tim asks quietly as Kon lies back beside him and starts kicking his by-now-pretty-gross boxers down his legs.

“Getting comfy,” Kon answers simply. This should probably be where they have The Talk, or at least acknowledge how weird things should be, but Kon doesn’t feel weird at all. He feels pretty much amazing. He’s also probably grinning like an idiot. “You get comfy, too.” He tugs at Tim’s tights.

“I can’t stay,” Tim frowns, rolling on to his side to face Kon more fully. 

“Well, _I’m_ not flying you back to Gotham tonight. So unless you want another trip with Air Krypto…” He trails off meaningfully. 

Tim’s frown gets a little deeper, but there’s no anger there and Kon recognises a smile threatening to stretch over his lips. “Fine,” he surrenders, reaching down to kick the rest of his clothes off. Kon could probably use his TTK to help, but he’s kind of enjoying the way Tim’s muscles flex with each movement. “But I need to leave first thing in the morning, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Kon agrees. “After breakfast.” 

Tim rolls his eyes but doesn’t object, and then he’s settling on to his back, so Kon shifts closer until he’s pressed up against the warmth of Tim’s side. He rests his palm against Tim’s stomach, just underneath that ugly red gash, and Tim’s hand settles over it, squeezing a little. Kon floats the blankets over them and closes his eyes on a contented sigh.

“Good dog,” he whispers and Tim reaches over to punch him the arm before he settles back down with his own sated noise.

Outside in the barn, Kon’s superhearing picks up the solid thump-thump noise of Krypto’s tail beginning to wag against the floor.


End file.
